Silence
by oh sailor
Summary: Gordo finally crumbles oneshot


--Silence- -

**Updated 5/17/05: **Rating: M: I know that it used to be T, but I just thought that since it dealt with suicide and other things…I figured I might as well up the rating

Warning: this has depressive thoughts and deals with matters such as suicide. If you are offended by such things, don't say I didn't warn you.

Notes: I have taken a day and a half to write this angsty fic for you…so please send me a bithday present by reviewing. No one's reviewing anymore! I recommend listening to the song while you read this. It really sets the mood, plus it is a tasty song

Disclaimer: ME. NO. OWN. GORDO. OR LIZZIE. OR. KATE. OR. CAST. OR CREW. ONLY. MY PLOT. JUST. READ .NOW. I also do not own "The Sound of Silence" by Paul Simon

Summer air whispers softly through my open window, rustling the papers on my desk and causing me to lift my head off of the pillow, moaning as a pounding headache crashes down upon me. From downstairs, I can hear Jerry Springer on the television and the sounds of my mother's high-heeled shoes as she traipses back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. I should be studying, or at least doing the math homework that I've blown off for three days, but I can't bring myself to rise and immerse myself in the books that used to be my whole life.

My teachers bought all of my excuses, of course. They would never think that the immaculate and prestigious and brilliant David Gordon would forget to do his homework, or not bring what he needed, or fail a test. When all the other kids crammed at lunchtime, complaining about lost futures and future in home prison sentence, I reigned above them with a superior smile etched on my face. I pulled all nighters, and I would do better than all of them combined. It's what made me David Gordon, the one who never fell on his face, and the one who helped Lizzie and Miranda back up when they did. I was different from them because I learned from others mistakes instead of mine, and I saw what they didn't see.

What I'm wondering now, is where all of my intuition went? Somewhere, somehow, I lost the clear, unaltered sight that I had possessed. I made mistakes…lots of them. The work I need to do overwhelms me. There's a history test I haven't studied for, a paper on _Julius Caesar_ that's due first period tomorrow.

I haven't even started the play yet.

My parents don't know about anything, of course. They think that I'm still their perfect son with the perfect grades and the perfect mind. My mother brags to Lizzie's mother at book group about how well I'm doing and how they're looking for an early graduation and a future at an Ivy League school. Lizzie's mother can only nod in awe: after all, she has a plain, normal daughter who brings home mostly B's and a not so unique personality. What a surprise they're going to get when I bring home my next report card.

Throwing my black and green blankets aside I slink into the bathroom where I rest my head against the wall in the darkness, breathing in the lingering fragrance of pearberry body wash that seems to cling to the walls after I take a shower. Flicking on the light switch, I stare at my reflection as I blink in the harsh glare of expensive fluorescent lighting and brush my hair out of my eyes.

I've lost fifteen pounds in one month, and my boxers and white t-shirt hang loosely on my frail body. My skin is so pale that you can see the delicate blue veins that run across my face and arms, and suddenly I can see what I'm going to look like when I'm old.

Walking back to my room, I pull on a sweatshirt and climb onto my skylight, where I sit on the roof, darkness surrounding me.

_Hello darkness, my old friend_

_I've come to talk with you again_

_Because a vision softly creeping_

_Left its seeds while I was sleeping_

_And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains_

From the rooftop I can see over pretty much all of Hillridge, California, the town that I grew up in, and now will probably die in. I can see Lizzie's house, just into her room that's dark and empty. Lizzie's at the football game, just like all of my other ex friends. I can see the shimmering lights that reflect off of the community pool where I learned how to swim in Donald Duck swimming trunks and a lime green inflatable ring. There's Hillridge Junior High, and Hillridge High School, and the bright lights of the football stadium in the distance. I imagine Lizzie out there, her glossed lips cheering as she shakes her pom poms at bulky football players. I imagine her and Kate, in matching blue and silver uniforms, identical blonde curls waving in the wind. I can see Miranda's house, the front porch lit up, her little sister Kaycee drawing with pink chalk on a cracked sidewalk.

These were the people I grew up and apart with. I am no longer a part of their world and they are no longer a part of mine. So here I am, talking to the darkness and shivering in my _Hillridge YMCA_ sweatshirt.

_Within the sound of silence_

Silence surrounds me, and everything is suddenly too still. For a moment I wish I had Lizzie or Miranda, or even Ethan up here with me. I remember sitting with Miranda, her skin soft against mine as I blurted out my hopeless crush on Elizabeth Brooke McGuire. I remember sitting here with Lizzie, her blonde hair blowing against my face as I held her hand and gave her a tentative kiss. I remember sitting there with Ethan, and calling the ER on my cell phone because he'd seen the Goodyear blimp and decided that it would be fun to think happy thoughts and try to fly.

So many memories can be recalled when silence is all you have to listen to.

I crawl back into my room and throw on a pair of jeans and sneakers, swaying a little as a flash of dizziness swims through my head and a strange numbness overtakes my body. I'm so tired, and so sick of being David Gordon.

They can't stop me from slipping onto darkness, which is where I belong.

I grab my backpack and slip downstairs, slinking past my mother, who's watching Dr. Phil as she irons my clothes, humming lightly to herself as she removes the creases from my jeans and a piece of lint from a shirt. I wish I could be ironed flat, everything bad and ugly and malicious in my life removed with a single stroke. If only it were that simple.

_I love you, mom_ I think as I close the back door behind me. I haven't thought that in a long time.

The streets of Hillridge are deserted, and I walk slowly under the streetlights, gazing into the windows of closed shops as cars crawl past me, ignoring the lone figure.

_In restless dreams I walked alone_

_Narrow streets of cobblestone_

'_Neath the halo of a streetlamp_

_I turned my collar to the cold and damp_

_When my eyes were stabbed by a flash of a neon light_

_That split the night_

And touched the sound of silence 

It's almost like a dream as I pass the building where I spent to many carefree afternoons, drinking a strawberry smoothie and talking with Lizzie and Miranda. The Digital Bean. The pink and green sign cuts into the night, piercing my eyes and spreading a glow onto the sidewalk. It's closed for the night, but if I peer inside I can see our table, the three chairs sitting as they always sat those years ago, just waiting for us. I haven't been to the Digital Bean since eighth grade because, in high school, the Digital Bean is apparently a middle school hangout. The building that had been part of my life since first grade was off limits because Lizzie didn't want to be geeky and Miranda never really liked it in the first place. A raindrop lands on my hair, cooling my skin and soaking my hair as thunder starts to roll. I smile briefly as I think of how Lizzie would be squealing and running for cover to protect her precious hair and coveted cheerleading uniform.

It's amazing how a ditzy girl with painted nails could destroy my life and what I stood for.

Lizzie didn't mean to hurt me, I'm sure she didn't. Lizzie's not the person who would ever intentionally hurt anyone with words or actions, but she's clumsy, and she tends to say things that she doesn't mean. She made sure I knew when our relationship was over. She was a cheerleader, I was president of the history club, on the Latin club, a member of Geeks 'r Us. She was popular, I wasn't, and that drove us apart. "I can't see you anymore Gordo." she'd said tearfully, tucking her blonde hair nervously around her finger. I'd told her that I understood: it was important to see other people, to test the waters, immerse yourself in school.

I almost wish that I'd told her how I felt, just so that there was a chance that I could have her back. But it's too late now, and she's shredded me into one gigantic piece of nothing with her manicured nails and sweet smile. The sad thing is, she has no idea how much I loved her. And now I'm going away, drifting into silence. There won't be college or a wife or a baby in my future.

I sit down on the cold hard ground and pull the little bottle of pills from my sweatshirt. My father takes them for his back pain, and I've heard the repeated warnings that he gives to my cousins whenever they come to visit. My parents never thought to want me, or guide me, because it was so obvious to them that I could find my own way in the world. David would never touch strange medication. David would never run away from home. But here I am, ready to die where my childhood lived.

_And in the naked light I saw_

_Ten thousand people maybe more_

_People talking without speaking_

_People hearing without listening_

_People writing songs that voices never share_

_No one dare_

Disturb the sound of silence 

I swallow the pills slowly, one by one as I take small sips out of the Miller bottle I stole from the fridge. The world's starting to dim a little bit, and I laugh as the pink and green sign blurs and mixes with the rain and the sidewalk. My head feels so heavy, aching with voices that don't speak. There are so many people, and they're not there at all. I can't move now, it feels like an eternity and I wonder if Lizzie will miss me at all. Probably not. The rain pounds mercilessly, but I can't feel my face. My head slides off of the backpack, hitting the cement on the sidewalk and smashing into a fragment of broken glass. I see blood running down my face, but I'm numb all over. There's only an ache inside of me, sharp as glass and as bright as the lights that dance in front of me. I can't move my mouth, and I feel myself floating gently as the rain soaks my jeans and my hair and the bottle rolls out of my hand and down the street. Silence surrounds me, and I can see all of the people who ever loved me, and who I ever loved behind my eyelids. They crowd around me, their cool hands rocking me to sleep.

_Fools, said I, you do not know_

_Silence like a cancer grows_

_Hear my words and I might teach you_

_Take my arms and I might reach you_

_But my words like silent raindrops fell_

_And echoed_

_In the wells of silence_

They don't know me, I had so much to teach and they threw it away. I kept silent, and like a malignant tumor, I broke and killed everything that I had left. My words went unheard by even myself, and I wish that I'd gotten a chance to say goodbye. I wish that someone could take me in their arms and guide me towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

I can see headlights behind my closed eyelids, Ashlee Simpson blaring from the stereo. Someone laughs, and I almost find the strength to open my eyes. It's Her, I know I is.

"How about that game?" Lizzie says. Her voice seems melted, far away.

"Oh my god. It was the best ever!" Someone answers her. Suddenly, Lizzie screams and I hear the skidding of brakes and the sound of a door opening and shutting. Sneakered feet run over to me, and I feel someone's hands shaking me.

"Gordo?" she wails, beating my back with hopeless fists as tears hit my face along with the rain. "Gordo? Wake up! Please!"

I crack one eye open and there she is, my beautiful Lizzie. Her blue and silver uniform is a beacon of light against the dark sky and the neon sign. Her blonde hair is wet, the layers clinging to her face as she sobs and screams "Call nine one one! Hurry!"

Her voice is fading away, and I sigh, unable to take another breath. My chest is too heavy, and Lizzie's hugging my head to her chest, crying over and over again that she loves me and that she's sorry. Please don't leave me Gordo, she wails, her perfume filling my senses.

_And the people bow and pray_

_To the neon god they made_

_And the sign flashed out its warning_

_In the words that it was forming_

_And the sign said "The words of the prophets_

_Are written on the subway walls_

And tenement halls" 

We were supposed to be the soulmates that lasted forever. It was written in the stars that we should be together, Funny that everything should turn out so incredibly wrong. She became a slave to a god of hair products and perfume, while I watched helplessly. I remember writing our names in a subway in New York city. _Lizzie and Gordo forever_. Prophets predicted it, so why is forever so damn short? I miss the way my life used to be, before a delicate silence surrounded me and consumed me from the inside out. Flashing lights surround me, but they're too late. I'm gone and they can't save me. No one can save me.

It's too late for David Gordon.

Lizzie lets go of my hand, her voice shrill with despair and I hear Kate murmuring soothing words in her ear while Danny Kessler takes her hand. "I'm so so sorry…" she cries. And that's the last thing I hear before the silence crashes over me and I'm unable to hear. I just hope Lizzie finds out someday just how much I loved her.

_And whispered in the sounds of silence_


End file.
